Worthless Rhythm Is Our Guide:  Glee
by Whedonist
Summary: Happy International Day of Femslash - this is a set of shorts featuring various characters set to the rhythm of a few songs from The Black Keys.


**Title:** Worthless Rhythm Is Our Guide  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> The majority of the characters contained herein do not belong to me. They belong to other people and I'm just using them for a little bit of recreational fun. No harm. No foul. No monies made…  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Glee  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Santana/Brittany – maybe hinting at others  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13 - R  
><strong>Summary:<strong> A set of shorts featuring Santana, Brittany and various characters set to the rhythm of a few songs from The Black Keys.

**A/N:** Happy International Day of Femslash! I can't participate in Con festivities, but I hope everyone has a good time. This bit is my contribution to celebrate today. I hope that if you read, you enjoy what I've done, some is A.U. and some is centered around canon.

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><p><strong>Everlasting Light<strong>

"Saaaaan," Brittany whines into my neck as I shoo Lord Tubbington off the bed so I can snuggle in a bit deeper.

"Brit," I growl, "The livestock you're mistaking for a cat is not getting its hair all over my new outfit. Deal." She pulls away from me while I growl again. It stops when I see her bottom lip jut out and her eyes get glassy.

Oh, just fuck me.

Why does she have to pout?

Why does she have to turn big, blue, sad eyes on me?

Fuck.

"Brit, don't get sad," I say and hook a finger under her chin so I can look in her eyes.

"Lord Tubbington is not livestock. He just has a weight problem," she pouts some more and I roll my eyes.

I'll cut anyone that voices this one little fact: Brittany Pierce is _**so**_ my kryptonite.

I'm pathetic.

The foundation of my pathetic nature is only cemented when I slide off the bed, pick up the stupid cat, get fur all over my new skirt and place him in Brittany's lap.

I cheese when she giggles and claps her hands excitedly.

So screwed.

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><p><strong>The Only One<strong>

Everyone knewthat Kurt was a hopeless romantic. Love for him didn't involve most things that teenagers thought of when they thought of love. His ideal was sweet romance, flowers, singing, dancing and grand gestures that declared your everlasting fidelity and devotion.

It was all much more comfortable for him that way.

His ideals were the cause for the thorn in his side on the whole Brittany and Santana situation. It annoyed him to no end. He felt it was obvious to anyone with eyes and an I.Q. higher than seventy that the two girls should be together. It's why he had cornered Santana in the not-so brightest moment of his life and riled at her for her cowardice.

Now, he was pressed against the music room's door; Santana scowling over him. "You know, Kurt," Santana snarled, leaning further into him, her right arm planted next to his head, "If you were anyone else…"

The boy nodded mutely and took the exit the Latina offered as she lowered her hand. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the hallway, all of his parts intact.

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><p><strong>Howlin' For You<strong>

Nothing beats the mind numbing fear that grips you when you lay yourself bare for someone. The fear doubles when you're surrounded by the members of your glee club. Santana hadn't really thought that part out. But, she didn't care. Not at that moment. Not when she knew she needed to do something or risk losing the smartest person she knew. After what Brittany had told her in the hallway, they could do anything together…

Those were the truest, smartest words Santana had ever heard.

So as she finished her song, kneeling before the girl that made Santana want to sing a song that told everyone and anyone what they had together, she swallowed her fear. The smile that the blonde gave her lit her up from the inside out.

As Brittany's mouth closed over her own, she snickered as she heard Quinn snip, "It's about time." The fear left her, replaced by something she'd rather not name.

* * *

><p><strong>Never Gonna Give You Up<strong>

Several things happened as Brittany's eyebrows knitted together as she watched her girlfriend on the dance floor. First, she did a mental happy hop that she and her best friend were super-official and she had a girlfriend. She became annoyed because she wasn't on the dance floor with Santana; the stupid cast was still in place on her right foot from the tumble she took down the basement steps. The last thing that happened was the tingling sensation that hit her tummy.

It wasn't the pleasant tingly, like when she and Santana made out. No, it was the bad kind, the kind that happened right before she got sick or when she cried, like she did at the beginning of Up.

Brittany wasn't shocked when the feeling went away though. After she watched Santana push the boy who got a little too grabby away and threaten him. She also wasn't surprised at the heat spreading through her chest when Santana found her and blew her a kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>The Go-Getter<strong>

Santana snuggled into Brittany's side, sighing as the cool ocean breeze washed over their sun kissed bodies. For the millionth time that week, she sent a silent thank you to whatever was in the heavens above for getting all three sets of parents to agree to let her, Brittany and Quinn come to Myrtle Beach for two weeks during the summer.

The day was almost perfect. She felt Brittany kiss the top of her head and pull her in tighter while Brittany asked, "You think Quinn will have any luck?"

"I think Quinn will be fine. Her and that volleyball player had way too much eye sex for Quinn not to get her lady lovin' on," Santana answered her girl.

She felt Brittany nod her head as the blonde said, "You're right. Quinn's a good kisser, but do you think she'll remember that thing we taught her? You don't think she'll need help? I worry."

Santana sat up and shook her head. Leaning in, she began a slow assault on the blonde's neck sure that Quinn would be just fine.

* * *

><p><strong>Too Afraid To Love You<strong>

Pressure.

Quinn felt it every day. She knew she wasn't alone…what teenager didn't feel it? Get good grades, stay out of trouble, have the right friends, be the prettiest, the best dressed, have the right boyfriend…

All of it ping-ponged in her head with a startling regularity that it became second nature. She and Santana used to commiserate with each other about it, when they were closer.

Then everything changed. She got pregnant, came back, messed-up and had the shock of her life when Santana finally managed to get over it all and send a resounding 'screw you' to the McKinley High student body when her and Brittany went public.

Quinn was jealous of that. Quinn wished she had the guts to come clean too…but she knew she didn't.

* * *

><p><strong>Your Touch<strong>

Brittany watched the candlelight flicker against the bedroom wall. The apartment was a stark contrast to the dorms she was at last year. There was no music coming through the walls, no cackling girls at all hours of the night. She didn't have to put up with a mean dorm mate who didn't like the way she danced or sung sometimes. She didn't even have to put up with the whining of her dorm mate when they got bitch slapped by Santana because they hurt the blonde's feelings.

Mostly the biggest difference for Brittany was how un-home like her dorm had felt. The apartment was completely different. It felt like home and Brittany knew it didn't so much have to do with the location. It had to do with the brunette that was snuggled up next to her.


End file.
